Welcome to the Show
by whistlane
Summary: Hershel Layton vowed never to return to the world of show magic ever since his brother died when a trick went wrong. Yet when his former colleagues and friends start to vanish as a mysterious masked stranger rises to fame overnight, he realizes there may be more to this act then meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

Hershel Layton's seat in the theatre was in the very back of the mezzanine in the very center. It was a very lucky seat to him and in one of his most favorite old venues.

Being in the Ellestrand Theatre brought back all too many fond memories to the now retired performer. After all, his older brother and he had often visited when they were but kids as they often went to see magicians, dancers and the occasional traveling opera rehearse in the grand building. Perhaps it was then at his young age when his love of performing first blossomed. He loved the fuss and chaos backstage. He loved the feel of an audience watching him dazzle them.

At one time, he and his brother had even found themselves doing their own act in this magnificent and regal theatre.

But his time in the spotlight was over. What brought him back to the Ellestrand was not the show life calling for him, but a friend. A very good friend.

The theatre started to fill up fast as it began to buzz with the excited noise of the audience waiting with anticipation for the show to begin. Hershel used to live for this excitement, this thrill. Now he was content with just contributing to the applause.

He was all too joyed to see the curtains rise to even notice someone take the seat beside him.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Now introducing the one and only... Randall Ascot!"

The theatre practically burst with clapping and the occasional yelp or whistle. Yet the stage remained bare except for a small gold relic that lay right in the center of the stage. A mask? Even the stagehands seemed to be confused as to where the performer was.

"Er... Mr. Ascot?" The announcer inquired, only for the mask to erupt with vibrant purple smoke.

Amidst the clouds of smoke, a figure dressed in an all white suit stepped out. His bright and wild red hair and signature glasses were immediately recognizable. The man wore a grin that seemed like he was completely at ease and very pleased with the entrance. It was just like Randall to want to go all out. He always wanted his performances to be memorable for everyone, even for his own help. He hadn't changed much since they were students together.

"Good evening, London!" His voice rang out through the hall. Something about hearing him speak again made Hershel's heart swell, as he truly did miss him. "I don't suppose you're all here to see a magic show, are you?"

The show was truly one of Randall's best and Hershel knew it would be one the critics would be all abuzz about. He found his way backstage, knocking on the dressing room door. It swung open immediately, a blond woman looking up at him. He recognized her as his old friend and one of Randall's assistants, Angela.

"Hershel?" She tilted her head, her eyes widening.

The redhead spun around, perking up like he was some kind of puppy. Hershel braced himself as his friends rushed over to embrace him. Their embrace was warm and truly reminded him of home. He let them do it for some time before pulling away.

"Hersh! I thought you were staying away from this kind of stuff!" Randall seemed ecstatic, despite the fatigue he should've felt after his rather rigorous act.

"I guess I don't always keep my promises."

"Well, I-"

"Randall, this was left outside for you." The magician was interrupted by his other assistant, Henry, coming in with a silver case in his hand. Randall seemed to react strangely to its arrival, seeming fidgety as the warm mood disappeared. Did it mean something to him?

"Hershel, it's very good to see you again." His voice became hushed as he seemed to urge him out the door. "I'm afraid I have some business to attend to."


	2. The Fool

After the strange occurrences following Randall's performance, Hershel found the best course of action to be returning to his modest London flat for the evening.

A stack of letters waited for him on the stoop, eagerly awaiting their opening. Hershel was a fervent believer in the fine yet mostly forgotten art of the handwritten letter. Most of them were merely fan mail from his few remaining dedicated and devoted fans, but others came from other talented performers and magicians he had met throughout his days. Though his own career was short lived, he had managed to meet several people through his travels across Europe.

There was the young man he'd met doing magic tricks on the London streets with his two signature female and male doves named Spring and Cogg a trip to one of his favorite stages, he'd met the beautiful granddaughter of Anton Herzen himself, who had not only inherited his charm and wit but his love for grand and spectacular illusions. There were many people like those that he'd met on his journeys, all with their own recognizable gifts and personalities that he could never forget no matter how hard he tried.

The lights were dimmed inside, already making the former illusionist feel drowsy. As he lay down on his couch, thoughts raced through his mind once more. Why did Randall react so oddly to the package being delivered? Did it have to do something with the figure who had occupied the seat next to him or was it unrelated?

Whatever it was, Hershel decided it could wait until the morning as sleep soon claimed him as its own.

It wasn't until the theatre was about to close for the night that Randall had finally worked up the courage to open the case given to him. His assistants, Henry and Angela, had already left for the hotel they were residing at, leaving him to his thoughts and the mysterious package.

The dim lights made it difficult for him to notice the symbols on the case but it was there nonetheless. They seemed to be initials but they were almost ineligible, yet he recognized the penmanship from something he'd received earlier in the week.

A week prior, a note written on a tarot card was found taped to his trunk full of his possessions. It was clearly addressed to him and was very blunt about it's purpose. It simply read:

Dear Mr. Ascot,

You are part of an elite few selected for my special purposes. If you wish to know more about this project, further instructions and a full invitation will be sent upon your response.

Yours truly,

JDDS

Sure enough, the initials were an exact match of the original note. Randall, being curious as he was, had responded to it. The case must have been the correspondence he was waiting for.

He opened it with caution, only to find a single white mask in it, found with yet another tarot card. Randall picked up the card and examined it carefully. Scrawled out in messy handwriting on the back was another note.

To the Fool,

We will be awaiting your arrival at the Valor House. Wear the mask I sent and do not give your name to anyone you may meet.

Signed,

JDDS

How peculiar. Randall had no idea where the Valor House was, not to mention how suspicious the whole affair was.

Yet how could he resist a good puzzle?


	3. The Lovers

There wasn't a sensation in the world that Katia loved and cherished more than the rush and excitement of the last dress rehearsal before a performance. It was almost like focusing on an ant colony. There were so many people making up the inner workings of everything and if too many members were slacking off or were missing, the entire grand scheme could fall apart in a matter of time. Being able to see how it all fit together was a skill Katia was taught from a young age, for if you can see the little cogs clicking together in a performance, you can see with ease how a trick comes together. Every time her grandfather took her to a show or did a trick for her, he expected a detailed explanation of everything involved in the trick and what techniques were used to pull it off. It didn't take long for her to get into the habit of doing it with everything.

The purple-haired illusionist made her perch the balcony closest to the stage as she daydreamed and almost dozed off. She was pulled from her trance by a stage assistant tapping her on the shoulder.

"Miss Anderson, there are two young men outside of the theatre who are causing a scene."

"I'm not sure I see why this is any of my concern?" She raised an eyebrow. "This seems like the problems of someone in authority."

"One of the men is your dear cousin."

_Ah._ No wonder her great uncle dumped him on her. Sammy caused enough trouble for her to start getting gray hairs and wrinkles at the ripe old age of nineteen. Katia smoothed down her skirt, sighing heavily.

"Yes, I'll be sure to take care of it."

She hurried outside, the heels of her shoes clicking as she dashed across the lobby. Sure enough, her cousin was just moments away from throwing his guitar at another man who was carrying two birds on his arm who were flapping their wings and tweeting wildly. Instead of helping, the bystanders seemed more interested in watching. Before Sammy could make another move, she grabbed him by the ear and pulled him down.

"Yowch, cuz! What was that for?" He whined, making her wince. "I was about to teach this punk a lesson!"

"I resent that! That screeching you call music isn't only scaring my audience away but it's scaring my birds!" The other man snapped. He was far taller than her and dressed rather neatly for a street performer. Perhaps he was a fellow magician? Something about him made him harder to read.

"Screeching? I'll have you eating those words! You just don't know anything about rock 'n' roll!"

Katia kept a stern gaze on her cousin, touching her fingers to her forehead. This whole affair was already starting to give her a headache and the lights and music hadn't even started yet. However, the feeling was all too familiar.

"Sammy, please go inside, I've had quite enough of your nonsense for one day and its only the early afternoon." She didn't even bother looking at him, annoyed.

He drooped a little, picking up his microphone and retreating back into the lobby. The crowd quickly disappeared as soon as the action cleared out, leaving her and the other man alone. In unison, they both released a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry about him." Katia offered a weak smile. "My great uncle thought having him around would make him less like… him."

"Then it obviously didn't work, but your chastising makes up for it a little. Thank you, my er… hero." The man smiled, his birds perching on her shoulder.

She giggled as the little white doves inspected her violet hair with curiosity. The young man watched as they warmed up to her, nuzzling her cheek.

"Their names are Spring and Cogg. And my name is Clive." He introduced.

"They're very cute." Katia beamed, letting them scurry on to her forearm. "Oh! To make it up to you, you should come to the show tonight."

Clive shrunk back, his face paling. She frowned. Was something wrong? He seemed uncomfortable at the idea of it. She was sure that it wasn't that big of a deal.

"No, I can't. Good bye. And I'd take that paper scrap that man stuck to your back while you weren't looking." His tone was curt as he whistled for his birds to return to him and his bag.

Before she knew it, he had went back to doing tricks for the passerby. Confused, she plucked off the paper he was talking about. It appeared to be half of a tarot card, but the image was so faded she couldn't make out what the card originally was. Messy handwriting was scrawled on the back of it, bearing the name Descole in overly fancy script.


End file.
